It turned out they knew each other. In fact, they knew each other very well. For me, there was a problem in the living room, for her it was: “the long lost thing she’d been looking for”. I set my eyes on her face like a racer looks at the road. I saw her face soften at the sight of him as they stared at each other like something out of Love Story.

“You guys know each other?” I said shocked.
“Remember when I went to France all those times last year?” Mark said, staring.
He didn’t touch her, hug her or kiss her. They just stared at each other, possibly Mark owed her a phone call or something.
“Well this beats the hell out of me,” Mark said.
“Something’s you have to do for yourself,” she replied quickly, not losing his gaze.
“Very good,” I interjected.
“You’re just angry because someone else has taken your bone,” she finished.

I was astonished at how well she handled herself in the face of his idiocy. She flipped a finger at me to go towards the door and we made the few steps it takes to get there. Mark paced with his arms crossed pensively. He was angry to the point that his face matched his red shirt. I had no idea why, except that I could surmise that they knew each other, as well as, she and I knew each other. This was getting weird especially when she asked if I would leave as she had unfinished business to discuss with Mark.

“I’ll call you later,” she said.
“Forget it,” I said while retrieving my coat from the couch.
On my way out, I looked at Mark and said, “You’re a son-of-a-bitch.”
He said, before the door slammed shut, “Just get outta here.”

A ship set to sail with no map could better navigate the sea of disbelief I was sailing. The look of love and pallor of despair that overcame them both angered me when I thought of Mark and Melody’s first interactions. Mark was just the kind of man who could abuse the tender love of a woman like Melody. I’d seen him do it so many times; I knew what a selfish bastard he was. He will use her and not love her like I would. I turned into an alleyway to light a cigarette, away from the cold wind. I stroked the wheel several times before a flame sputtered. As I pulled a long drag from the cigarette and squinted from the smoke, I remembered I needed to meet Sam at the fountain. I waved down a taxicab for help.

I winced at the idea of babysitting Sam with dumb small talk about symphonies when Mark was fucking me, once again. Sam would never understand and defend Mark in some foolish, childlike way. I could have her in bed right now, if I never brought up the goddamn Chagall.

Immediately I noticed Sam was fidgety and pacing around the fountain in short steps. While, I paid the taxi driver, he sat down on the fountain ledge, tapped his foot, stood, and then sat again. I knew he was upset when he came in view and I saw him squatting, his hands grasped in between his legs. When he stood, before he could say anything, I put my hands on his shoulders. I said, “Wait. Wait. What’s going on?” His voice was anxious, his brown eyes confused, he said, “My money’s gone.”

“I went to my account and everything’s gone. I had a funny feeling so I went to the safe deposit box and Dad’s Hemingway book is gone too. It’s a lot of money, Shannon, because they took every cent.”
Mark, I thought
“How much did they get?”
“All of it.” Everything I had, that’s not in stocks. I’ve been saving for how long now. Figure about $300,000 plus the book. I don’t know how much that’s worth, but maybe we’re talking about half million total.”
It’s Mark – the son-of-a-bitch. I didn’t think it anymore, now I knew it.
“Who do you think took it?” Sam said. “I know you’re thinking something.”
“You know exactly who took it, Sam. No one can just walk in and withdraw $300,000 dollars.”
“Really who do you think took it Shannon? Maybe the bank took it? Maybe the Feds, I owned them back taxes once,” Sam said.

We both agreed that Mark had access to the account because Sam’s money is commingled with his inheritance. He left his money in our parent’s trust accounts. Sam was always gullible and naïve, he’d left his account with all our names on it.

“It had to be Mark.”
“Oh, no, no,” Sam kept saying, his hands writhing around his face, over and over.
I hated repeating the truth, running dangerously close to making him feel stupid. But it was inevitable and a lot of money and, then, Sam started to cry.
“Sammy, I’ll get the money back from Mark for you. Don’t worry. I can get you the money back. I’ll take care of it.”

Thier Deeds Unmistakable, VII – Tomorrow!